first light/last light

A friend of mine sent me this quote from Gandhi:

"Whatever you do will be insignificant. And it's vitally important that you do it.”

So I’m doing whatever it is I’m doing, in it’s insignificance and it's close to nothing.

I’m doing my teaching, which I love, and feel so incredibly lucky to be doing.
I’m doing my dancing, which I love, and feel so incredibly lucky to be doing.
I’m doing my reading, my watching, my listening, my learning.

And in all of that there is a hunger to understand this world.

And sometimes I worry that that hunger is too big, too loud, too brash, too haunted perhaps.

I wake up these days at 5am and I take my morning walk so I can see the first light of day. I come upon the same deer and her babies, every single morning. We're getting to know each other, so now when they see me, they stare for a minute, and then go back to doing whatever it is they're doing, rather than running away. I see the same family of grouse each morning, who -- same thing -- stand and coo as I walk by, rather than bursting into flight and scaring the bejesus out of me, as they did when we first encountered each other a few months ago.

I turn around at the bottom of our road, and retrace my steps back up the hill, passing the same deer, the same babies. I wave and say hello because it feels rude not too.

I see that first light of morning on my way back up, and I feel moved. The hunger is less ragged.

This week, a student said at the end of class, “my body comes back to order” after Dog Dancing.

And I thought yes, that's why I keep at this dance in its insignificance, it's close to nothing, because it is everything — at least to me.

Someone else said,  “I don’t quite belong to myself right now.”

I’ve known that, that not belonging to myself.

Strangely, since covid started, I feel like I belong to myself more than I ever have. I don’t know why that is.

Someone else said, “Can I come home to myself?”

I so wanted to press my face into the camera on my computer and shout YES, but that would have been weird, so I’ll say it now, if that student is reading this:

“Yes, you can come home to yourself.”

Since we are home all the time now, Glen and I take a night walk most evenings, after dinner and as the light is leaving the day, More often than not, we come across two deer, bedding down for the night. Different deer then I see in the morning, but like those deer, they also recognize us. As we walk by their sleeping spot, they stare, curled up on a flat part of the earth, and watch as we walk by. They don’t run anymore, as they used to when we first started to walk every night after dinner.

“Whatever you do it will be insignificant. And it’s vitally important that you do it.”

This is my insignificant action in a world that is hungry:

I’m raising money for organizations that are pushing past inertia and working to upend the status quo. Organizations that are small and not necessarily heard of, but that thoughtfully, courageously, and doggedly are making change. 

YAASPA is dong that. They are a youth led organization that is “pulling down the barriers” to see what's possible and big and glorious. I love them. I think they are kind and inquisitive, innovative and ferocious in their dedication to making change, and to that change being made and motivated by young people.

So far we’ve raised $596.81. What do you think — can we try for $1,000 again, like we did for Casa de Paz, and even more for Mirror Image Arts?

Let’s do the math:

We need to raise $400 or so + to make that $1,000 mark.

1.
That is:
16 of you giving $25
8 of you giving $50
4 of you giving $100
to get to $1,000 for YAASPA.

Or if we want to go big  -- and why not, let's go big:

2.
That is:
56 of you giving $25
28 of you giving $50
14 of you giving $100
to get to $2,000 for YAASPA.

I’d love to raise this kind of money for these kids who are working so hard to make their corner of the world a little bit better. I’d love for us, as a collective, to say to them, with our dollars, “We are standing with you.”

Be part of this collective giving with me and donate here.
 

"So I say to you, walk with the wind, brothers and sisters, and let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide." -- John Lewis

With love, always love,
Joanna

PS: Nice White Parents
You gotta listen to this, whether or not you're a parent. 
It’s…ooph…yeah, take a listen.

Also this, last words by John Lewis in the NYTimes, if you haven’t read it yet, do.

xo